


To Follow You Through it All

by Umbra_Corvum



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, M/M, Master of Death Harry Potter, Multi, Other, Problematic Shit, Time Travel, Torture, Vampires, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:13:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22540768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Umbra_Corvum/pseuds/Umbra_Corvum
Summary: Tom Riddle's life is set out before him. When he is born, how he will live, and when he will die. All of this is known, for in fact, all of this has already happened. And yet, somehow, an immutable inevitability is halted. The impossible is made to be. The obsession of one man, founded on good principles, but warped by centuries of madness, that is to be the pebble that turns aside the roaring river.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort, Harry Potter/Voldemort
Comments: 10
Kudos: 58





	1. To Walk with a Demon

**Author's Note:**

> Howdy folks! I know I have another work to work on, but at the moment, this has been screaming away in the back of my head for ages, and now that I have free-time again, it won't shut up until I start working on it, so this is what I'm going to be putting out for awhile. I know its different from my other work, and likely appeals to a much different, smaller community, but I hope that enough people can enjoy it to make it worth writing. Actually, I'll probably keep writing it anyway, but I hope enough people enjoy it to make it worth putting a modicum of effort into. Regardless, have a good read, I hope you enjoy it.

“SLYTHERIN!” exclaimed the Sorting Hat, it’s voice echoing throughout the hall as Tom Riddle slid off the stool and calmly made his way towards the table of the snakes, his stony face displaying none of the trepidation he was feeling. It was certainly the house he belonged in; he was full of ambition and cunning, and the parseltongue alone was a huge indicator, but with his completely unknown blood status, it was also the house where he would experience the most difficulty. Sitting down, he turned to talk to the person next to him, only to sigh slightly as his lip curled, and he continued the turn to watch the rest of the sorting. Those sitting beside him had moved down, putting space in between them and the “Mudblood.” His neutral face hiding a storm of turmoil, Tom sat through the rest of the feast in silence, ignoring the isolation that was already beginning, and pushing down the twinge of emotion inside him that had thought that maybe the wizarding world would be different, and that maybe he would be accepted here. It didn’t matter. He didn’t need them, and soon they would be begging to sit next to him.

Pushing his plate slightly towards the center of the table and setting down his utensils, Tom turned towards the front of the room, feigned attentiveness coloring his features as Headmaster Dippet gave a speech about something or another. In reality, he was watching the rest of the table, looking towards signs of deference from one student or another, wanting to note who he would have to compete with the seize control of the house. Shockingly, he found nothing; there appeared to be no noticeable power structures whatsoever, and indeed, he saw more signs of deference among the badgers than he did among the snakes. He did not know whether to be worried or relieved, because this either meant there was no power structure to speak of, or that it was executed in a way much more subtle than he had any ability to detect. Shaking his head slightly, he rose with the rest of the house, and followed the older students who had just been identified as the 7th year prefects out of the Great Hall and towards the dungeons where the Slytherin common room was located.

As the door to the common room slid open in response to the password (Jörmungandr), the voice of the male 7th year prefect spoke up as most of the house filtered into what appeared to be the dimly lit room. “First years, stay behind.” When all but the youngest members of the house of snakes had entered the common room, the female 7th year prefect, (Cecilia Greengrass if Tom remembered correctly, which he absolutely did), spoke up, her face severe as she looked down towards the group. “When you enter, you will not talk unless spoken too,” she began her voice clipped and slightly tense, “you will not look him in the eyes, and above all,” she continued, her voice becoming even more harsh, “you will be respectful.” After she finished, she stepped to the side, allowing the first years to enter the common room. They were to be meeting the Head of the House, Tom assumed; this must be the reason for the lack of any power structure, the Head of House, (Horace Slughorn was what the introductory materials had said) must maintain a much stricter grasp on the house than Tom had been led to believe. An obstacle, certainly, but not an insurmountable one.

When he entered the room however, and looked towards the figure sitting in a chair located central to the room, everything about his countenance suggesting he was sitting on a throne, his jaw nearly dropped, and his eyes widened, though Tom returned to a look of schooled neutrality a moment later. He had not been sitting at the faculty table, and Tom had never seen him before; he would have remembered, there was no doubt about that. The boy sitting on the chair, staring down at everyone else with a look of cold superiority, was the most beautiful person Tom had ever seen. His skin was a pale pearly white, unnaturally so. His hair was dark, and his plump lips a gorgeous red. His face was angled, almost predatory, and intimidating. The most striking thing about him however, was his eyes, a brilliant, glowing shade of green, illuminating the dimly lit room slightly. As Tom continued to stare, taking in the angel he had mysteriously found, he noticed how the shadows seemed to curl around his sitting form, almost caressing him. As Tom continued to stare, the angel turned his head, and his eyes locked with Tom’s and he smiled, though in reality, it was more of a smirk, though regardless, the look bared his teeth, and Tom’s heart nearly skipped a beat as he saw the smirk revealed viciously pointed extended canines. Fangs. He was looking at a vampire. 

Before Tom could figure out how to react to this information, (and before the other first years could do so, given the stifled gasps he heard from a few of them), the male 7th year prefect stepped into Tom’s line of vision, anger on his face as he stepped towards Tom, wand out. He opened his mouth to speak as his lip curled, only to freeze as a velvety voice cut through the common room. “Marcus, enough.” The voice was soft, but it had an immediate result, as the older male, (Marcus Rosier?), stepped back into the ranks of 7th years standing off towards the side of the room, pocketing his wand as he did so. “Come here Tom.” The vampire continued, his curled hand coming up to outstretch lazily towards the young boy.

Frozen in shock and entranced by the voice, as well as everything else, it took a moment for Tom to register the words that had been spoken to him. His body, however, had already begun to respond, moving towards the boy. By the time Tom could have stopped his movement, he knew that he shouldn’t because he had already stepped away from any safety granted by the group of first years, and Rosier had already demonstrated what looked like a willingness to curse Tom for something as simple as making eye contact with this beautiful vampire. Continuing forward, he stopped just in front of the outstretched hand, waiting for a response. The vampire stood silently, the movement predatory and almost serpentine. As he did so, the shadows clung to him slightly, as if reluctant to let him go. His hand reached forward to lightly caress Tom’s face, the touch of his cold skin somehow comforting to Tom’s rapidly fraying nerves. His hand ended its short journey on Tom’s chin, and tilted his head up to meet his brilliant green eyes once again. Suddenly, and much to Tom’s shock, the vampire had leaned down, and their lips met, a kiss, his first, pressed against his lips, from the vampires cold ones. In a moment, it was done, and the vampire pulled back, turning languidly to sit back down in his chair, and gesturing towards Tom, silently directing him to return to the group of first years. Tom did so without thinking, slowly backing into the group, shock his predominant emotion as he forced himself to respond as he knew he should, watching those in the room, and noting their reactions.

As Tom noted the reaction of those around him, especially the older students, he was glad he did so, because they were enlightening, and incredibly useful. The most prominent emotion was one he was feeling quite a large amount of himself, as everybody in the room was shocked by the vampire’s display. The next few were the useful ones however, especially given how they were directed towards him; jealousy, a slight amount of reverence, and fear, though this appeared to be split between him and the vampire, though not in equal measure. The room seemed to be frozen at a standstill for a few moments, until Greengrass stepped forward, apparently the first to get over her shock and be confident enough to do anything about it.

“This,” she said, her voice wavering slightly, before she stopped, and shook her head, only to continue in a much more confident, commanding tone. “This is Hadrian Peverell. Despite what any official titles may say, and despite his year, and despite what any outsiders may want to say, he is the leader of Slytherin.” Her gaze swept across the room at this, daring anybody to contradict her on this, though seeming to know that nobody would. “If he gives you an order, you are to obey. If he asks you a question, you are to tell the truth. And if he should choose to take issue with your behavior,” her gaze darkened as she spoke, and her eyes drilled into the first years as she focused entirely on them, “then you are to die obediently.” As she finished, a hush spread across the room, and held for what felt like an eternity, before Rosier, who appeared to have finally found his spine once again, stepped forward, though his voice held none of the steel present in that of his counterpart.

“Fourth years and below are to go to their rooms, and stay there for the remainder of the night. Fifth years and above are to stay here.”

As the rest of the lowers years filed obediently towards their rooms, Tom moved to follow, only to stop, making a risky decision based on nothing but a feeling and a hope. Instead of following the lower years, he moved into the group of older students forming around the center of the room, and the chair where the vampire, Peverell, sat, moving to the front of the group, wanting a clear view of the beautiful monster. As he slid through the crowd, he watched people see him, and open their mouth as if to say something, before closing their mouth again with something resembling a grimace. Smiling slightly, Tom took his position towards the front of the group, happy that so far, his decision had yet to backfire. Once the movement had stopped, all the other lower years gone, and the older students gathered as one, Peverell’s eyes roamed across the rows of still figures, a slight smile gracing his face for a moment as his eyes passed over Tom before continuing, a flash of irritation sparking inside him at not being paid more attention, before he crushed it ruthlessly, opting instead to simply watch what was going to unfold. Finishing his survey of the crowd, the vampire nodded slightly, and the room itself seemed to let out a collective breath. Then, the vampire stood, rising slowly, lazily from his throne-like chair, and in response, seemingly as one unit, the group surrounding Tom dropped to their knees, their gazes firmly locked on the floor. Tom however, stood standing, refusing to give up on his risky plan of action just yet. He wanted to push, to see where the leeway he got from the vampire’s unexplained interest in him ended.

His refusal to kneel had not gone unnoticed by those that had done so however, a few of them shifting nervously, before seeming to catch themselves and stopping, a tension building in the silent room. Suddenly, the voice of one brave soul cut through the room; “My lord, wh-” his voice was cut off, morphing into a scream as Peverell’s head snapped around at an impossible speed to look towards the source of the noise, and while Tom refused to turn his head from where it was watching the vampire, he saw the screaming fool from the corner of his eyes. The shadows had come alive, no longer content to simply curl around the angel, no, the demon in the center of the room. Instead, they had moved to punish this poor soul for speaking, a spike of darkness piercing his shoulder, and, Tom had to restrain himself from turning, claws of darkness appearing to be working towards removing the writhing figures right eye from its socket. Suddenly, there was a sickening pop, and the shadows melted away, leaving the boy screaming, and writhing, and sobbing softly as many others in the group were visibly sickened by the display, but forcing themselves to ignore the likely permanently maimed boy among them.

Then, out of nowhere, it was like the world had blinked, and in a moment the vampire had vanished, only for Tom to stumble forward slightly as he felt a chest press up against his back, appearing from nowhere. Before he could recover, a sibilant, teasing whisper sounding in his ear, though in the near silence, it echoed throughout the common room, reaching the ears of everybody else.

“Yes Tom,” the voice whispered, sending a chill down his spine, and a shiver, though not an entirely unpleasant one, across the rest of his body. “Do not kneel. You are above them. You are special aren’t you?” Stepping silently around the kneeling forms on the floor, Peverell, no, Hadrian reentered Tom’s line of vision, though much closer than before. “Don’t worry,” he continued, though his whisper had gained an edge to it, “if you follow me, I’ll make sure you reach the heights of greatness you deserve.”

Tom remained silent, hating the sound of following anybody, even somebody as clearly powerful as this vampire, but knowing rejecting the vampires words would be the wrong course of action. Seeming to take his silence as assent, the vampire smiled, a predatory hungry thing. “Wonderful,” He whispered, the tone of his voice weighing down Tom’s heart, leaving him with the feeling that he’d made a deal with the devil, one he could never take back. “I cannot wait.”


	2. To Gaze at an Angel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy folks! I just wanted to make a quick comment at the beginning of this chapter to try to head off an confusion that may start to pile up: this is not a collection of one-shots or anything, and it does have a coherent, continuous story. We just haven't got there yet, and so this chapter and the next may seem a bit unrelated to the ones before them, and while they are at the moment, that will change. Basically, bear with me, I have a plan, and until you see that, hopefully you can still enjoy what I have at the moment. Have fun reading!

Tom listened tiredly as Abraxas continued talking about some bill or another that his father was working on passing. His hand twitched slightly as Abraxas went over the plans for funding it for the third time, the blonde trying so hard to be useful, but only managing infuriating. When the entrance to the common room slammed open noisily and somebody stumbled in, Tom’s wand was out in an instant, ready to curse whoever had dared to burst in in the middle of his meeting, only to stop, his whole body relaxing, and a gentle smile crossing his face as he felt a familiar magic caress his own. Silencing Abraxas with a look, he rose from his chair by the fire and turned around, ready to greet Harry, and hear about how his day had gone. When he turned though, he froze, completely, and something dark surged through his body, his magic exploding from his body, slamming several pieces of furniture against the wall, and snuffing out all but the most resilient of torches.

“Get. Out.” He ground out, barely restrained fury pouring from him. In less than a minute, the room was completely empty except for him and Harry, who was frozen, hunched over and shaking slightly. Tom was next to him in an instant, arms coming to wrap around the smaller male as he whispered meaningless soothing words against his dark curls. Eventually, after a few minutes- too long, whispered a voice in Tom’s head as his hand clenched- Harry stopped his shaking sobs slowly and gently wrapped his arms around Tom’s waist, letting his head rest against the taller male’s chest, simply taking comfort from his presence. After awhile, Tom slowly and gently guided Harry towards a loveseat, his magic reaching out to set it upright once again, and repair any damage that had been done to it, before Tom sat down, pulling Harry half into his lap and bringing him so he was leaning against his chest. Gently lifting his chin up, Tom wiped the tears away from Harry’s cheeks, and then leaned down to press a gentle kiss to his lips, and receiving a small smile in return. Sitting here, with Harry, Tom could almost forget the vicious rage surging through every fiber of his being at the idea that somebody had reduced his angel to tears.

After another few moments of silence, and simply enjoying the feeling of holding each other, Tom opened his mouth, his voice extremely gentle as he asked the question he needed to know the answer too. “What happened love?” He whispered as he rubbed soothing circles into Harry’s back, wanting him to forget about what happened, but at the same time needing to know, so he could prevent it from happening again. All he received in response was a small shake of Harry’s head, which drew a sigh from Tom’s lips, pursing them slightly, before trying again.

“Please love? If I don’t know what happened, then I can’t protect you.” This received not an answer, but a hesitant look, and so Tom kept going; “All I need is a name, or something darling. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but I need some way to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

As he said this, he leaned forward to press another kiss to Harry’s forehead, and then pulled back slightly and waited, simply being the presence the smaller male needed. He knew Harry, and he knew that eventually, Harry would give him what he needed, and so until then, he needed to focus on making him feel better. Eventually, Harry whispered one word against Tom’s chest; “Morris.” Smiling, Tom whispered back, a gentle “Thank you Harry,” before lapsing back into silence, simply sitting there, watching the one person in the world who was precious to him drift off into a peaceful slumber.

Tom quietly shut the door to Harry’s room, making sure the wards were up as he did so, before turning and striding determinedly down the hallway towards the seventh year rooms. Stopping in front of the first door, it only took one short rap on the door before it opened, revealing Abraxas and Orion standing on the other side, waiting for him nervously. Nodding once, Tom moved out of the doorway, letting them exit, which they did, smiling slightly, knowing that they’d earned some level of approval for anticipating his wishes. Taking off down the hallway, they went to fetch Aiden and Evan, while Tom went the other way to retrieve Cassandra and Precilla. Walking into the common room, Tom found the most useful of his followers waiting for him, his inner circle. He spared them a glance as he walked towards the exit into the dungeons, and they fell into step behind him. As the exit slid open, he turned briefly, and spoke the name of their target, Morris. They all knew what he’d done. Harry crying was unacceptable, and Tom would do anything in his rather considerable power to ensure that it never happened again.

Tom smiled an angry, fierce smile, all teeth and no joy, as his wand slashed down for a second time, severing the Mudblood’s hand from his arm, the gush of blood quickly stopped by a sloppily applied fire spell, the intent to keep him alive for now, and cause him pain, rather than to actually cauterize the wound. The scum was doing little beyond writhing on the forest floor now, having moved beyond the point of tears hours ago, and having had his tongue cut out when he had called Harry a monster. Tom directed a bone-shattering curse towards his ribs at that memory. Calling him a monster was fine: he certainly was one. But to call Harry, perfect, innocent, sweet little Harry a monster, simply because he loved Tom? That was a slight Tom would never forgive. Around the edges of the clearing, his followers stood silently and watched. They had helped at the beginning, but this was for Tom to finish. Looking down at the dying man on the ground before him, Tom decided to go for the simple route, his foot coming down on Morris’ face, snapping his nose and fracturing his skull, before simply turning and walking away, casting a curse over his shoulder that would act as a lure for that absolutely ludicrous Acromantula the half-giant oaf had decided to bring to the school last year. Nodding at his followers, they all exited the clearing, casting spells that would clear away all evidence of them having ever been there as they went, making their way back towards the castle.

Looking down at Harry’s sleeping form, Tom smiled. It was a rare expression on his face, and one he saved exclusively for Harry in their most private moments together; it was truly happy, an unguarded smile, divorced from the layers and layers of masks that Tom normally wore at all times. Quietly and slowly moving to sit down on the edge of the bed, Tom’s hand came up to run his fingers gently through Harry’s hair, and caress his face lightly, his magic jumping around, almost laughing as Harry leaned into his touch, even in his sleep. As Tom looked down at the vision of perfection that lay asleep, he reaffirmed the same promise he made every night, and would continue to make, until the end of time itself. Harry was Tom’s angel, and so Tom would be Harry’s guardian. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed that folks! Any comments at all are wonderful, especially if they're helpful, or funny. Have a wonderful time, and I hope you'll read the next chapter of this when I get it out. Seeya!


	3. To Speak with a Man

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy Folks! I hope you enjoy this chapter! We're not quite at the point where a cohesive story becomes visible, but we're not far from it either. I hope you enjoy the chapter regardless, as I quite enjoyed writing it.

Tom knocked sharply on the door, the force with which his knuckles hit the wood the only sign of his irritation at not being taken seriously. He managed to stop the accompanying sneer from showing on his face, but the temptation was certainly there. He’d known that getting hired by Dumbledore would be an uphill battle, but getting interviewed by the newly appointed Deputy Headmaster was an extremely pointed example of exactly how much the odds were against him; never would one of Dumbledore’s precious lions be standing here, waiting for the Deputy, who had, for some reason, yet to appear! Letting out a slight, irritated sigh, Tom raised his hand to knock once again, only to drop it again as the door swung open, revealing an unexpected and unwelcome sight. Tom’s surprise showed clearly on his face for several long moments as he looked down towards the last person he had ever expected to be Deputy Headmaster: Hadrian Peverell, the Hufflepuff menace, smiling brightly up towards him, his brilliant green eyes shining happily. Moving to the side, and gesturing for Tom to come in, Peverell spoke up, his kind, excited voice grating on Tom’s nerves, and causing his hand to twitch.  
“Come in Tom, sit down, sit down, it’s been ages since we’ve seen each other hasn’t it?” His rattled off energetically as he turned towards a table off to the side of the office, pouring two cups of tea before bringing them over to the desk, where Tom had sat down, restraining his annoyance. “You still take your tea the same way right, two creams and four sugars?” He asked, pausing slightly to look askance towards Tom as he set the cup in front of him, before making his way around the desk, and taking a seat at his own chair.  
Begrudgingly, Tom nodded, a brief flash of surprise running through him at his school... rival- the word tasted of ash, even though he had not spoken it aloud- knowing how he took his tea, despite their lack of contact for quite some time. Blinking slightly, Tom tuned back into the rapidfire speech of the other male, satisfying himself that he hadn’t missed anything important, before raising the cup to his lips, and politely sipping the offered tea, waiting for the man to get to the point, and ignoring the fact that this was what he would have to deal with in order to be denied the position he wanted; because one thing was certain, between Dumbledore and Peverell, he wasn’t going to walk out of here with anything other than disappointment and anger. As soon as the hot liquid of the tea passed his lips however, panic shot through him before his body went stiff, and he lost control of his limbs, unable to move, and he heard the door latch, sealing him in with Peverell, who had gone uncharacteristically silent, and his face more serious than Tom had ever seen it. He’d never been exposed to it, but Tom recognized the side effects of Veritaserum, and that terrified him to a degree he had not felt since his summers in the orphanage.  
“What is your name?” Came the soft, gentle voice from across the desk, still managing to sound kind, despite the fact that its source had just drugged an applicant during a job interview.  
“Tom Marvolo Riddle.” He heard his own voice answer in a clipped tone, though the response, something which he had no control over, created an unfamiliar feeling of detachment, something he found himself fighting against, trying to resist the Veritaserum, even though that was a known impossibility.  
“What do you call yourself?” The voice asked again, and panic flooded him as he lost the ability to hold it back, the hope that this would be a somehow innocent questioning disappearing at that question, knowing where this line of questioning would lead.  
“Lord Voldemort.”  
At this, he received a small smile, one that seemed almost indulgent in its kindness, a sentiment which grated on Tom’s nerves, the sudden flash of irritation momentarily blotting out his panic.  
“What are your goals?”  
“To become immortal, acquire power, and destroy the muggles.”  
“Why?”  
“I am afraid of death, and of being controlled. Muggles are filth, and deserve to be exterminated like the vermin they are.”  
“Why are you here?”  
As he heard this question, one he expected would be coming, Tom threw himself against the mental prison that had formed around him, trying desperately to stop himself from speaking, even as his mouth opened, and the words that would doom him began to pour out.  
“To apply for the Defense Against the Dark Arts position, and to hide my horcrux in a safe place.” As he closed his mouth, he held onto the last hope, the hope that Peverell didn’t know what horcruxes were, and didn’t think it important enough to mention to Dumbledore. This hope however, was shattered immediately with the next question he was asked, and he gave up entirely trying to fight, focusing instead on how he could get out of this position, disposing of Peverell and making a clean getaway.  
“How many horcruxes have you made?”  
“Five.”  
The smile that had yet to leave Peverell’s face during this interrogation became slightly melancholy at Tom’s latest answer, and Tom watched with trepidation and then growing despair as the man opened a drawer, and from it produced all five of his horcruxes, his lifelines, the culmination of all his work simply sitting there, exposed on the desk. Peverell sat there in silence for a moment, simply looking at Tom, who was still unable to move, before sighing softly, and rising from his seat, moving around to lean back against the deck in front of where Tom was trapped, looking down at him before speaking, his voice gentle and kind, sounding mocking, a facsimile of helpfulness as Tom’s entire world came crashing down around him.  
“The Veritaserum should wear off in a few minutes, and then we can continue this conversation.” He paused slightly here before letting out a slight chuckle, his eyes brightening slightly, and his tone changing to resemble more closely the excessively happy sound Tom associated with him. “I’d appreciate it if you would not try to kill me, but somehow, I don’t think you’ll respect that.”  
Apparently finished for the time being, Peverell simply looked around the room, humming softly, and with no apparent tune, as Tom struggled to move, wanting to do something, anything, the anticipation making the experience worse somehow. As soon as he felt his body begin to move in response to his efforts, he froze completely, focusing on remaining stiff, not wanting to give away that he had begun to come out of it until he was ready to take action. After several minutes of waiting, listening to Peverell’s distracted humming, Tom decided he was probably good to go.  
He was up in a moment, his wand in his hand in a flash, the three deadliest spells he knew short of the unforgivable firing out, as the use of that particular curse would trigger the wards immediately, and he was not in a position to fight Dumbledore at the moment. His objective was to grab his horcruxes and flee. Standing still only long enough to watch all three curses hit their mark, he lunged forward, scooping up the fragments of his soul from where they lay on the desk, and whirling around, his magic reaching out towards the door as he bolted forward, stopping just short of slamming into the door upon which his magic could find no purchase. Reaching out towards the bolt holding the door shut, fear shot through his body as he hand passed through air, and the door shimmered before vanishing entirely, leaving a blank wall, and no way out of the room. Whipping around, he found Peverell still leaning calmly against the deck, watching Tom, rather than inside-out on the floor as he by all rights should have been.  
“Why don’t you sit back down and we can talk Tom,” the Deputy Headmaster’s kind voice suggested, drawing a response of bared teeth and a growl from Tom, before the Heir of Slytherin let loose another stream of deadly curses towards the menace, getting more desperate as they hit their mark with seemingly no effect, and finally, letting go of his restraint, letting loose a curse of a brilliant green, the same color as the eyes of the man Tom now wanted dead more than anybody else in the world. This curse never hit its mark, much to Tom’s dismay, as a section of the floor rose quickly into the air and absorbing the blow, stone shrapnel exploding throughout the room, pinging off the various objects covering nearly every available surface. Frustrated, and in his state of panic, unable to think of anything he’d yet to try that would be at all effective, he resorted to simply screaming out his frustrations towards the source of them, an blatant display of emotion to a degree that Tom had not demonstrated for years.  
“What do you want from me for Merlin’s sake! Why are you doing this!” He screamed, his voice tainted with every ounce of rage and terror that he was feeling, and yet only receiving a calm response from the person they were directed at.  
“I just want to talk with you Tom.” Peverell answered, his face neutral with the exception of the kindness in his eyes. “I promise I won’t hurt you, and I won’t prevent you from leaving if you want to after we’re done talking.”  
Tom’s fist clenched, but bereft of any other options, he stalked furiously forward, clutching his horcruxes protectively as he sat back down, perched on the edge of the seat, ready to flee at the first sign of an opportunity, not that he expected to be given one. Turning fully to face Tom, Peverell sat down on a chair that slid forward to catch him, allowing him to sit on the same side of the desk as Tom, in what would have created a much more intimate atmosphere, had they been any other people in any other situation.  
“What do you want to talk about?” Tom bit out, glaring forward at the person who had quickly ascended the ranks to become the biggest threat to him and his rise to power.  
“I want to give you an offer, and through that an opportunity to correct some of the mistakes you’ve made, and proceed down a better path in the future,” Peverell started, his words bringing a sneer to Tom’s face. This fool was offering him a chance at redemption, to be a better person. Opening his mouth to respond with something mocking and cutting, it snapped close a moment later as the smaller male cut him off, anger ghosting across his face as he spoke with a vitriol Tom had never heard from him before.   
“You will be silent, and you will not make assumptions about me or my offer,” the Hufflepuff spat out, shocking Tom, before continuing on in a much more typical, kind tone. “You have made a mistake in splitting your soul as many times as you have Tom. Even once is an affront to the rules of the universe, but to do more is to undermine the stability of your own network.”  
Tom’s eyes widened in surprise, not at the topic being addressed, but at how it was being addressed, and what he had just been told. His immediate instinct was to deny it; he had read nothing about such a thing, he couldn’t possibly have committed such an oversight. He forced himself to quash that instinct however; he could look into it later, and for the moment, it seemed like he was entirely at the mercy of Hadrian Peverell, a man who was quickly becoming an anomaly, as everything Tom though he knew was thrown into question repeatedly.  
“What…” Tom started, before pausing, not liking the lack of confidence in his voice, before continuing onwards in a more acceptable tone. “What are you proposing?” he asked, his back straightening, a level of comfort draping over him as they entered more familiar territory.  
“I have taken the liberty of returning to you all but one of our soul fragments,” Peverell started, causing Tom’s eyes to widen, but continuing to speak before the aspiring dark lord could interrupt, “and the fact that you had no idea is as a result of your incredibly unstable amount of horcruxes.” He paused here, seeming to think about his next words, before smiling widely at Tom, a familiar expression, forcing Tom to look into happy eyes the color of death.   
“I am offering you a choice. I will take possession of your last remaining horcrux, which resides within your diary, and I will guard it for as long as I am able. In return, you will make no more horcruxes, and,” he said, his voice becoming harsh, though his expression remained unchanged, creating a rather unnerving effect, “you will take no action that will harm me, and will take no actions that risk revealing magic to the Muggles.” Here, Tom leaned forward, prepared to angrily object, only to be ignored entirely as Peverell continued, his tone becoming even darker, hovering on the edge of being truly dangerous. “If you decline, or if you fail to uphold your end of the bargain, I will destroy any and all horcruxes you possess, and then I will end you, subjecting you to your greatest fear.”  
Tom forced himself to be silent, irritation, rage, and shortly, acceptance welling up inside him. He could do nothing about this at the moment, as Peverell’s capabilities were entirely unknown. Besides, he thought, a slight smile beginning to grace his face as he finally reasserted some level of control over his emotions, maybe this was not as bad as it first looked. After all, this new Peverell could be extremely useful if Tom could find some sort of leverage. He would love to have this man as one of his sworn followers, or if that were impossible, a trusted ally. With a resigned nod, Tom set the diary onto the desk, storing the rest of the artifacts, no longer horcruxes, within the folds of his robes. Smiling, Peverell stood, and the door shimmered back into existence with a wave of his hand, Tom rising with him to walk towards the exit.  
“I’m glad we could come to an agreement.” Peverell said, before opening the door for Tom, smiling at him as the man left the office. Tom responded simply with a nod, and moved to turn away as Peverell made to close the door, only to pause and turn back when he heard the door creak back open slightly.  
“I forgot to tell you Tom; off the back of my recommendation, Dumbledore wanted me to tell you that you will be welcome to hold the Defense Against the Dark Arts position, and,” he continued with a smile, “since we will be colleagues, I expect you to call me Harry.” He finished, before closing the door with a wave, leaving Tom standing, alone in the hallway, processing the absolute madness that had just ensued.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading folks, I hope that you enjoyed that, and I hope you'll enjoy the next chapter when it comes out. Let me know what you thought, and have a wonderful day!


	4. To Greet the Reaper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy folks! This chapter is really short, and if I'd written it tomorrow, (or today at this point, given time of posting), it would be accompanied by another one, but I wanted to put something out before going to sleep. On the plus side, this should be the last chapter before something resembling a cohesive plot starts to pick up. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this!

Tom gave the knife a final twist, before dropping it carelessly, standing up and stepping over the man laying on the ground to lean against the wall, wiping his blood-covered hands on his robes, and waiting. It didn’t take long for his real guest to arrive; people tended to expire rather quickly when they had a hole in their heart after all. The torches in the room went out for a moment, plunging the room into total darkness, even to Tom’s magically enhanced sight. When the torches flickered back to life, they revealed a welcome sight, and a fond smile graced Tom’s face as he pushed himself off of the wall, and strode towards the figure who had appeared from nowhere. As he did so, the figure let out a gentle sigh, and shook his head, as if disappointed, though the smile that had also graced his face when he looked at Tom told a different story.  
“Again with this Tom? If you keep killing people, you’re going to get into trouble,” the small man, Harry, asked, his brilliant green eyes glowing as he stepped forward as well, bringing them closer together, though he stopped just short of making contact.  
“I’d like to see them try to arrest me Harry darling,” Tom answered with a smirk, his voice just as smug as the look on his face. “Besides,” he whispered, hand reaching forwards toward Harry’s face, fingers twitching as he stopped himself from bridging that final gap, “even if they did, you would protect me from the dementors, wouldn’t you darling?”  
Harry let out an indelicate snort as he turned around and looked briefly down towards the rapidly cooling corpse on the floor. “You know,” he remarked before turning back towards Tom, “he had decades left to live Tom. There was no need to cut that short.” His voice was casual, as if talking about the weather, before it changed slightly, a bit of irritation creeping in as his eyes darkened, though his smile remained in place, wider even, as if suddenly plastered on. “Especially since I would have come to check on you soon anyways. After hearing nothing from you for such a long time, I was beginning to think you had died while I wasn’t looking.”  
Tom’s eyes widened slightly at Harry’s uncharacteristic irritation, though happiness sparked within him at the idea that the smaller male missed him just as he did when they were apart. He hadn’t wanted to go without seeing Harry for so long, but he had had to make preparations, just in case.  
Smiling a little bit wider, he leaned down, getting closer to the object of his affections, though maintaining the barest amount of separation between them as he whispered out an apology. “I’m sorry Harry,” he started, his breath ghosting over Harry’s skin as his face softened, his smile becoming more genuine again, “I had a few things I needed to do before…” he took a deep breath, hesitating slightly, before closing the distance between them, his lips pressing against Harry’s soft ones as they connected in a gentle kiss, one that Tom had wanted for years, but had never been able to get. The kiss lasted for a long moment, though not nearly as long as Tom would have liked, before Harry pulled away, his face shocked and tinged with panic.  
“Tom! Why…” his mouth hung open for a minute, visibly struggling to find the words to say, “You know you weren’t supposed to touch me! And now…” he voice trailed off as he looked towards where Tom was standing, a worried look on his face.  
Tom chuckled gently as he stepped forward again, wrapping his arms around Harry’s shoulders, and pulling him slightly forward to press against Tom’s chest. “Don’t worry Harry darling, He breathed out, his voice excited, and proud of his accomplishment. “This is what I was working on! I can touch you now!”  
Harry was still against his chest for a moment, before Tom felt him shake his head, and pulled back slightly, looking down at his resigned face, his brilliant green eyes slightly sad as he spoke. “It didn’t work Tom,” he whispered out, “nothing ever does.”  
Tom blinked slightly, and then opened his mouth to object, before something made him close it, and he turned around, a sudden sense of trepidation growing within him. His eyes dropped to the floor, and he froze, looking down at his own corpse, an expression of frozen satisfaction looking back at him, the last expression his face would ever make. He simply stood there, not yet able to fully process this, the fact that he had failed, as Harry walked soundlessly forward to stand beside him.  
“I’m sorry Tom,” he whispered, maintaining the distance between them, to which Tom had become unwillingly accustomed, “this isn’t what I wanted, this is my fault.”  
That shook Tom out of his daze, his brain whirring into renewed functionality as he turned, and once again took Harry into his arms, causing him to stiffen briefly at the contact. “It's fine darling,” he said, wanting to comfort the adorable reaper, but, surprisingly, finding that the words were mostly true. “I knew it was a risk when I did it, though I thought it was a small one.” He smiled down at the other man. “Regardless of the consequences, this was worth it; and besides, now I can stay with you- we don’t ever have to be apart.”  
Harry laughed, and, for the first time, wrapped his arms around Tom, both of them simply enjoying the moment, and the feeling of being loved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed that! Let me know if you did, and I hope you're looking forward to the next chapter!


	5. To Witness the End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy folks! This is the promised chapter where a cohesive plot starts up, or at least the foundation for it finishes. I don't have much to say apart from that, so I hope you enjoy reading the chapter!

Harry Potter looked down, his body unnaturally still as he stared at the objects laying on the table before him. His had been a long existence, and one full of regrets, but out of all of them, this had been the longest lasting, and the most profound. Letting out a resigned sigh, his fingers brushed over the remains of a snake, cleaved in two long ago, and it crumbled, turning finally to dust, which drifted away into the darkness. Silently, his fingertips next trailed over the burnt and twisted remains of a gorgeous diadem, which melted into slag in an instant. The next item, an ornate goblet, half of which had melted away, was given only the barest glance before it too crumbled away. A locket was next, and here his touch lingered for a moment, a flash of hesitation appearing in Harry’s weary green eyes, before he shook his head, and withdrew his hand as if pained, letting the locket crumble, letting out a noise resembling a whimper. The ring, stone missing from its setting, was the next to go, Harry not even bothering to look at it, and instead, reaching out to pick up the severely damaged leather diary, bringing it towards his chest to hold there, almost hugging it, as the wooden table it had been resting on rotted away almost immediately, like it had never been there to begin with. Running his hand across the leatherbound cover, he took a deep breath, and held the book out, a pained grimace making its way onto Harry’s face as a slow, hesitant fire began to spread from where he touched it, and the book drifted away in a breeze of cinders and ash. Simply standing for a moment, it was not long before Harry turned around, a smile drifting across his face as he let his memories free as well, soaring away, to rejoin him another day, and then, a new man, he watched as the universe ended around him, a glorious symphony of beautiful destruction.

* * *

Draped across the ornate throne, looking down at the gathering masses through half-lidded eyes, Hadrian flashed his fanged teeth in a predatory grin, before licking his lips hungrily, an action which had his Death Eater attendant hurriedly calling upon a house elf, who quickly popped into the room, long fingers clasped around the wrist of a young muggle woman. Head whipping around towards her, Hadrian’s eyes latched onto her neck as she was dragged towards him, even pacified as she was by a permanent compulsion. As soon as she was within arm’s length, he grabbed her, and pulled her towards him, his mouth latching onto her neck with remarkable speed, and beginning to drain her of her lifeblood, as the gathered Death Eaters looked on, shifting nervously at the display. Once finished, Hadrian pushed the woman’s pale body to the side, where it fell with a thump, only to be quickly removed with a pop. Sitting up slightly, the now far more energized vampire scanned the room, impatience stirring within him, as Tom was still absent, the other throne in the room irritatingly empty. Tom was supposed to be here, providing him with ample entertainment, and yet he was not, and so boredom was slowly beginning to seep in. Just as Hadrian was about to force some measure of entertainment out of the unfortunate crowd, a door at the side of the room opened, the barest sound of the wood against the rug catching reaching the vampire’s ears, and he turned to meet Tom’s crimson gaze, a proud, smug smile on the young dark lord’s face as he held something behind his back.

Cocking his head to the side in curiosity, his gaze followed Tom’s movements across the raised dias, stopping as Tom came to a halt, and dropped to his knees in front of the vampire, back rigid as he answered Hadrian’s unasked question. “I have a gift for you Hadrian,” his feigned whisper giving the words a veil of intimacy, but the smugness lacing them clearly meant for the crowd of onlookers.

“Do tell,” Hadrian practically purred, delight brightening his eyes at this truly unexpected event. It was not rare that Tom got him gifts, but it was rare that he had no idea of their existence beforehand.

Smile only growing, Tom brought out the object that he’d been hiding behind his back, and Hadrian’s eyes widened, the recognition instant as a dark, vicious, and happy laugh leapt from his ruby lips as he reached forward, his hands closing around the distinctive wand the world had come to associate with Dumbledore, the now almost certainly ex-headmaster of Hogwarts. As his cold fingers came to wrap around the pale wood of the Elder wand, he gasped, power shooting through him, only to blink in surprise when he found that it was originating from more than one source. The ring of the Gaunt family, which had rested on his finger for years, and the Peverell cloak, draped invisibly over his shoulders, surged to life as Hadrian connected with the Elder wand. Together, finally, for the first time in eons, the Hallows sang, and the past, answered.

* * *

Harry laughed happily, arms wrapped firmly around Tom’s waist as he looked up at the gorgeous male, who looked back, a disgruntled but fond look on his normally neutral face. Harry’s smile widened at this observation, and he reached up, standing on his tip-toes to press a kiss to Tom’s chin, and earning several back as the taller male’s face softened immediately, and he leaned down, peppering kisses acrossed Harry’s face. The source of Harry’s laughter and Tom’s disgruntled expression were one and the same, and Harry burst into another round of laughter as he took in the soaked state of his boyfriend, who had just been doused by a mermaid, who had risen from the lake to shoot forth a jet of water, only to sink back down with a wink and a giggle of her own.

“Do you truly find my embarrassment that amusing?” Tom asked teasingly, even as he waved his wand, drying himself with a flick, as he pulled back slightly, though his hands remained firmly on Harry’s waist.

Harry’s response was a happy nod, and another light giggle at the cross look that it received. Tom sighed fondly, and pressed a kiss against Harry’s head, filling the smaller male with warmth, before turning away and locking their hands together, leading both of them on a calm walk around the lake. They walked for awhile, around the lake, slowly curving towards the forest, silently enjoying the other’s company, the comforting feeling of their magic interacting. Eventually, they arrived at the edge of the forest, just as the sun began to sink below the horizon, a gorgeous background to their evening, one which Harry watched with wide eyes and a bright smile, only to turn away when he felt Tom drop his hand, and gasp at what he saw. Tom was on one knee, looking up at him fondly, and holding a ring in his hand. Frozen for a moment in surprise, it didn’t take long for Harry to snap out of it, and process what was happening. As Tom opened his mouth to speak, Harry didn’t give him time to do so, and practically launched himself forward towards the kneeling man, tears beginning to flow as he wrapped his arms around him, nodding furiously as he was offered the one thing he wanted more than anything else in the world. Through watery eyes, Harry watched Tom smile lovingly, and lean down to press a kiss against his head.

“You know love, normally, you let your partner ask the question before giving your answer.” He whispered teasingly as he took Harry’s left hand in his own, to slide the gorgeous ring that would mark him as a member of the Gaunt family onto his finger.

“Shut up,” Harry bit out through tears, though a smile practically split his face in two, as wide as it was. Looking down at Tom, he whispered out a heartfelt, “I love you,” as he felt the ring slide onto his finger, and then gasped as an unfamiliar feeling rushed through his body, his wand, and the ancient cloak humming in response to the return of a brother. Together, finally, for the first time in eons, the Hallows sang, and the past, answered.

* * *

Foot tapping impatiently, Hogwarts’ Deputy Headmaster waited for the door to his vault to clank open, and stepped inside, slightly awed, as he always was, by the massive amount of wealth piled everywhere. Looking around, one hand went up to run through his hair, and the other habitually sank into his pocket, running across the leather cover of Tom’s diary. Smiling slightly as warmth flowed through his fingertips from the diary, he walked over to the the nearest pile of galleons, and began to calmly count out the coins he would need for the next month. As he did so, he failed to notice the tendrils of magic creeping out from several items in his possession, searching for their lost brother, who they knew was nearby. The stone, pulled from the ring that once held a portion of a soul on a whim, now stored in the mokeskin pouch hanging on Hadrian's belt, whispered, searching. In a holster hidden on his leg, a wand of pale wood whispered as well, only recently loyal to its new master, won in a recent duel with Dumbledore, who had pressed it into his colleague’s hand with a smile, and a twinkle in his eyes. Standing up and turning to leave, Harry’s eyes caught on something he didn’t recognize, and curiosity sparked within him as he walked towards it, bending down to examine a cloak of peculiar fabric that he’d certainly never seen before. As his hand brushed against the soft light fabric, the whispering of the two objects he carried with him crescendoed, as waves of rippling magic filled the room. Together, finally, for the first time in eons, the Hallows sang, and the past, answered.

* * *

In another world, a green eyed reaper picked up an infamous wand off the ground, not quite knowing why, and it resonated with other treasures that he’d picked up when their owners had no need for them.

In another, the light lord opened a gift from his oldest friend, and now his greatest enemy, with a pained smile on his face, only to gasp as he saw the ring he knew so well, Tom’s only connection to his magical family, something he valued deeply, despite how fervently he’d denied it whenever Harry had brought it up.

In another world a beloved minister, face worn with age, unwrapped a gift left to him by his mentor, while his oldest and most trusted advisor looked on, his face tainted with barely hidden disdain.

Throughout many worlds, throughout many times, the hallows came together, held, finally, by the one man who had always been their master. With them, they brought their past, a long and tragic history of repeated failure, of endless regret. They told a tale, the story of two men, and they screamed this story in a cacophony thousands of voices strong.

* * *

In another world, in this world, a young boy came upon three objects of unimaginable power through sheer happenstance. He did not know what they were, for how could he? He was only a child after all, and one recently orphaned, though he did not know that yet, when he picked up a pretty looking stick from the ground, wrapped as he was in a magic cloak, so adept at hiding that it hid even its own nature, and the boy’s lucky stone sitting innocently in his pocket. Even then, in a world where Harry did not even know enough about the world to say what was magic and what wasn’t, the Hallows sang, and their master’s answer, their voices, their memories, being torn across worlds, screaming, singing, whispering, a sea of endless voices sounding inside the young boy’s head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed that! If you did, let me know, and I hope you'll join me next time, and enjoy that chapter just as much. Seeya next time!

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed that folks! If you did, awesome! I'd appreciate a comment or something telling me why. If you didn't, I'd really appreciate a comment telling me why. And most importantly, if you noticed something you think I could do to improve it, either in revision or in future writing, let me know! There's no stupid suggestions, and no stupid questions either. Regardless, I hope you enjoyed this so far, and I hope you will continue to enjoy it in the future. Have a wonderful day/night/whatever unit of time applies to you. Seeya!


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